


Curtain Call

by windienine



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Mutual Pining, gay with a side serving of kinda sad, put the theater kid with the workaholic they'll be fine, this was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13858125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windienine/pseuds/windienine
Summary: Winona has been surviving all by her lonesome, and seems to be doing just fine for herself. However, after crossing paths with old friends, she promises them her protection. When she decides to add herself to their party, she is soon informed that there is one member of their group that she has never met on any previous "wake-up". The newcomer is valiant, strong, and overwhelmingly pretty in a way that leaves Winona with a longing heart for the first time in over ten years.However, that's not all. Winona knows without question that she recognizes Wigfrid from somewhere before all this. As the images grow clearer in her mind, it begs the question--could Winona be the key needed to unlock Wigfrid's memories and uncover why she was brought to the Constant in the first place?





	Curtain Call

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to tumblr user maya-fey for requesting this fic! I'm having a blast, and part 2 should be right around the corner!

   With a bright lantern in one hand and Abigail holding the other, Wendy lead the way through the woods. Daybreak wouldn’t be coming for another few hours, yet she had set out with Webber on a midnight misadventure. The latter, however, seemed to be in the middle of voicing some doubts about the excursion.

 

   “Wendy, are you sure this is a good idea?” Webber whispered, their voice rising a bit with anxiousness. “What if the grown-ups find out we left camp without them? We’re gonna get in trouble!”

 

   Wendy shushed them, before continuing on into the gloom. “Keep your voice down, if you’re so afraid of that. We’re still rather close to camp. We have to—”

 

   “But they’re gonna wake up and see our empty beds!” Webber interjected. “Dr. Wickerbottom doesn’t even sleep—she’s probably going to walk over to our tent and see that it’s empty and then she’s _never_ gonna trust us to go out on our own!”

 

   “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll surely back before anybody notices,” she said, before turning her head to Webber for a quick moment. They were shaking like a leaf. “… Please don’t tell me you’re so scared that you were planning to run back and tell them about the flash.”

 

   Every hair of theirs was on end, sticking out and making them look like a spooked cat. “I-I-I won’t do that. We’re not tattletales!” Webber replied defensively, but their fearful shudders were telling a different story entirely. They couldn’t stop staring at the darkest shadows of the thicket, silently wondering if there were thousands of horrible monsters inside there, only waiting to jump out and attack.

 

  Wendy walked onwards, choosing to disregard their fright. “Webber, keep your wits about you. I need you to summon your bravery right now. This is to protect the adults, remember?” she said, before pausing to address Abigail. “Sister, may you keep him company?”

 

   The translucent figure beside Wendy let go of her hand, stopping to walk (float?) beside Webber instead. While they still seemed reluctant to move forward, they gripped Abigail’s hand tightly in his right claw, barely realizing that he had phased through it completely.

 

   He looked up at her, smiling just a little. “Thank-you, Abby.”

 

   She replied with a hollow tittering that was almost like one of Wendy’s rare laughs, and they could swear he saw her smiling back at them. Webber felt a bit of confidence rushing back; the spider, who was piping up in the rear of their mind, was warier about the spooky lantern-light than the darkness it was warding off.

 

   Webber spoke up again. “The big flash… don’t you think it just could have just been _heat lightening_ or something like that? Dr. Wickerbottom once told me that it’s a thing that happens in late spring and makes the sky flash at night, sometimes.”

 

   “Heat lightning?” Wendy corrected.

 

   “Yes! That!”

 

   “Not out of the question. But didn’t it seem awfully close?”

 

   “We d’know, maybe. It kind of made more of… more of a ‘brbrbrbrbr’ than a ‘KA-BOOM’, so it sounded kind of far-off even though it looked close-up. I remember that Grandpa has a tough time hearing really low or really high sounds, so maybe that’s why only we heard it. This place is strange.”

 

   “Yes. That it—”

 

   Wendy was cut off by a loud rustling in the thicket ahead of them. She and Webber both flinched, but Wendy moved quickly to protect them. Drawing her spear, she immediately stepped in front of Webber. Abigail edged forward in tandem, on her guard to protect the both of them If need be.

 

   “We can fight, too!” Webber hissed, their claws at the ready. If anything, they should have been in front!

 

   Yet, just as the three were preparing for the worst possible outcome…

 

   Somebody, rather than something, trudged out from the heavy underbrush. Her clothing was still covered in a mix of dirt, dust, and leaf litter. She was gripping a pickaxe firmly in both hands, looking as if she had been just as ready to brawl as the children. Upon seeing each other, they all dropped their weapons.

 

   “Miss Winona?”

 

   “Auntie—M-Miss Winona!”

 

   “Kids!” she exclaimed, opening her arms. Both of the children immediately ran to her, all sharing in a hug that lasted for just a moment before Winona spoke again. “What are you three scamps doing here at this hour? Don’t tell me that you’re striking it out all by your lonesome...”

 

   “Don’t worry! All we did was sneak out after dark to see what that flash of light was!”

 

   “Webber, I thought you were still afraid of getting into trouble.”

 

   “Yep, I was,” Webber said, followed by a laugh. “But seeing Miss Winona out here makes me feel one hundred times better! I bet that Abby’s glad, too!”

 

   The children found themselves in another death-grip of a hug. “Don’t you two ever go running off like that again. You’re going to give me gray hair before we get off this island, I swear it,” she began, but paused. “What was all that about a flash, now?”

 

   “There was a light in the sky and what sounded like rolling thunder some distance from camp,” said Wendy. “We took our little journey and found you. Honestly, I was expecting some terrible lightning beast…”

 

   “But all we found was you!” added Webber.

 

   “A light in the sky, eh?” Winona repeated, thinking on it. “Tell me, kiddo, about how long ago was that?”

 

   “Thirty-two minutes… on the nose!” Webber said, before getting a pair of surprised stares from the other two. “We’re both really good at keeping time! We didn’t have a clock in the living room, and my father made me take these awful hour-long piano lessons, so I learned to count the minutes out! The spider is good at it, too!”

 

   “Alrighty, then!” Winona said. Webber was always full of surprises. They were a good kid. “But that does mean I’m right- about thirty minutes ago is when I came back using that there touch stone!”

 

   “There’s a touch stone in the woods?” Webber asked. “Wendy! The grown-ups are going to be so happy! We’ve got assurance!”

 

   “ _In_ surance,” Wendy corrected. “But how did you know this was here? Did you already pass through these woods some time ago?”

 

   “Right,” said Winona. “Just a few days ago I was out here chopping firewood! I’m surprised none of you folks heard me. I would have come back here and probably found you lot the old-fashioned way if it hadn’t been for those ornery mutts outnumbering me twenty-to-one!”

 

   “Oh, gosh! Auntie Winona, are you okay?”

 

   “Not at the time,” Winona said, pulling back her sleeve to reveal a slew of faint bite marks. “I’ll spare you the child-unfriendly details, but it’s safe to say I woke up here with what was probably a big flash to you kiddos. It’s a relief to find you all—my rear end is safer too, with your company. Now, tell me—who all is back at camp?” she asked, before adding: “Let’s start walking back, now.”

 

   Wendy took the lead, Webber and Winona following close.

 

   “Dr. Wickerbottom,” Wendy started to answer, followed by a chuckle from Winona.

 

   “She’s still kicking, huh? Glad to hear it!”

 

   “And Lady Wigfrid!” added Webber.

 

   “Who, now?” asked Winona. “I think I’ve heard that name tossed around before, but I’ve never met her.”

 

   The children looked at each other for a moment, before looking back to Winona in slight surprise.

 

   “You haven’t?” they asked, almost exactly at the same time.

 

   “Sure haven’t.” Winona said, but she barely finished the word as the kids began singing Wigfrid’s praises.

 

   “Oh, golly, she’s so incredibly cool! You’re both very cool in such different ways!”

 

   “I do think you’d get along rather well. You both place emphasis on physical strength and are both very gifted at snuffing out the lives of other creatures, when necessary.”

 

   “Aw, Wendy… I’m, uh, going to choose to take that as a compliment, all right?”

 

   “It was meant as such…”

 

   “Oh! Good!” Winona said, with a bit of relief. “In that case, I’m going to make sure to introduce myself to this Wigfrid character right away. The world could use more tough gals!”

 

-

 

   The group returned to camp a bit before sunrise. Wickerbottom, oblivious to the whole ordeal, still appeared to be studying away in her lit tent, from the look of her silhouette. Wigfrid, on the other hand, they assumed was still asleep. Though the children wanted badly to stay awake and catch up with Winona’s adventures, but they were refused. Winona walked them back to their tent, even going so far as to tuck them all in with another hug for the four or five more hours of sleep they could hope to accumulate.

 

   Ever the workaholic, she had decided to stay up and survey the camp, serving as night watch in the meantime. After all, if anything else strange were to happen, she certainly did not want the children to be the ones investigating once again. So, she stoked the central bonfire and had herself a walk around the perimeter of camp, inside of the short palisades. The first order of business, as always, would be to check inventory. As she perused the contents of their chests, she was shocked to see how much they had stockpiled. The party had a ready supply of kindling stacked up beside the machines, and the chests themselves were full of various medicinal tinctures, warm clothing, an entire set of back-up tools, and a bunch of standard survival gear. Then, in the last chest, another detail caught her eye. Were those… spears? The five of them certainly looked a bit pointier than the usual flint-shard-on-a-stick fare, but the decals made them look… well, fake, if Winona was being honest with herself. They looked like stage props—convincing stage props, even, but certainly not like anything that one would find in the jury-rigged kits of these survivors. Each of them had little symbols carved into the hilt, but Winona had no idea what any of them meant. One looked like an arrow, another like the letter “Y” but with an extra line through its middle, and another looked like an oddly written lowercase “n”. They were all carved with exact, straight strokes that looked just as surreally perfect as the rest of the weapon.

 

   Curious, she lightly poked a spearhead with her index finger, and quickly drew it back. It wasn’t just sharp, it could probably go through some sorry beast’s chest and come out its back with the right force behind it! If this so-called “Wigfrid” was their maker, Winona reckoned that she would have to pick up a few tips and share them with the others in order to figure out a way to make better spears more quickly. Yet, the odd symbols puzzled her. Why bother incorporating all of this ritzy business into something you were just going to stab things with and probably break a few days later? To Winona, it was pointless—but probably just some artsy signature or good-luck charm. That aside, she decided to take one with her. In case anything decided to try and get the jump on her,

 

   As for the rest of the camp, things appeared to be running smoothly under Wickerbottom’s supervision. A variety of machines were quietly whirring away pleasantly, and Winona was always a fan of Wickerbottom’s mechanical prowess. She worked slowly, to Winona’s chagrin, but she could never disagree that the finished products had a tendency to run like magic—even and especially the ones that actually ran on magic itself. Winona was a bit lost when it came to those, and she tended to hand off anything involving the arcane to someone with a bit more knowledge in that field. Just thinking about spells, staves, gems, and the like made her head spin. The final oddity was the stock of food. It was excellent! A range of quite edible (and some less edible) steaks lined the icebox, and there were even more cuts of meat left to hang on a couple of drying racks beside it. Winona was left wondering where all of the veggies, were—she was hoping the children were getting a balanced diet. Even so, she was happy that this group had apparently had some successful hunts as of late. No one would be going hungry. After her little self-lead tour, she sat back on a pine stump near the tents with a slight but audible crack that was followed by a shock of pain. Had she really been straining herself that much? Not that it mattered, of course; Winona was determined to stay up and wait for dawn. What if some terrible monster snuck in and destroyed the entire camp? What if there was a storm brewing and she’d be the only one to taste it on the air? She’d stand guard, regardless!

 

   She looked instinctively back to the children’s tent every few moments, listening for a rustle or looking for a light flickering inside. She hoped that they were catching some z’s in the small amount of time they had. She would be vigilant! She would be responsible! She would be there for everybody… or, would have been, had those not have been her final few thoughts before slumping over just a bit and falling fast asleep right on the stump. Considering the fact that she had stayed up for over 36 consecutive hours beforehand, it wouldn’t have been surprising to anyone but her.

 

-

 

   Winona was awoken with a start at the crack of dawn by a distant scream. Opening her eyes, she jolted up from the stump in a mix of heart-racing surprise at having fallen asleep in the first place and terror for the screamer. Sprinting to the front entry of camp in the faint morning light, spear clutched in both hands, she looked around frantically to identify where the scream had come from. It had been somewhere out towards the open meadow.

 

   The scream came once again. On a closer listen, it sounded quite more like some sort of battle cry than a scream of terror. Confused, Winona squinted and stared off into the distance. There, just a speck of a figure in her sight, was a woman with red hair and a helmet. What in the world was she fighting?

 

   From a small grove of trees emerged an enormous, growling wolf, its maw alone almost dwarfing her.

 

   “Well, I’ll be damned.” Winona muttered under her breath, staring in awe for just a moment before running towards the woman. This tiny lady was going toe-to-toe with a Varg, and as Winona closed in, she could make out that she barely had a mark on her.

 

   “Be still, föul spawn öf Fenrir!” cried the woman, brandishing her spear. “Shall yöu fashiön yöur demise swift, ör wröught with the möst baleful of agönies?”

 

   The enormous creature snapped its slavering jaws, keeping its distance, and Winona was left in stunned silence at the outlandish newcomer. She was wearing what could only be described as a slightly blood-spattered costume of golden scale and a leather chest-piece, and her braided hair fell past her shoulders and blew in the morning wind. She was fierce. She was peculiar. What in blazes was that accent? Never mind that, she was maybe five-foot-short and exuded a presence worthy of a seven-foot giantess. She was _gorgeous_.

 

  Wigfrid had apparently noticed Winona some time ago.

 

   “Fellöw shield-maiden, I see yöu wield a weapön! Jöin me! The beast’s strength has been whittled döwn, with but a sliver remaining!”

 

   “S-sure thing.” Winona answered, her face barely above a whisper as she took her spear and looked the gigantic Varg directly in its ugly eyes.

 

   “I see yöur face glöws red with hatred för the Wölf! We will make gööd partners!”

 

   “… Yep. Sure does.”

 

   “Ön my cöunt, we attack!” Wigfrid said, stepping to the left. “Öne…”

 

    Winona instinctively stepped to the right, matching up. They would attack from both sides, pinning the Varg and making for its quick undoing.

 

   “Twö…”

 

   Winona was star-struck. How was this woman a real person? Why was she acting like a viking? How was she so fearless? How is she being so absolutely bizarre about this whole endeavor and coming out on top? And, for the love of everything good in the world, why was she making Winona’s heart race faster than any monster ever could?

 

   “Three!”

 

   Wigfrid zigged and Winona zagged, and while the Varg attempted to move out of the way and come for Winona with a terrible bite. Wigfrid jumped up. Twirling and throwing her spear, she managed to stab the beast right in the back of its head as it reared up. Just as soon as it had opened its maw wide, it fell to the ground with a mighty thump, its red tongue lolling out.

 

   “Many thanks, my newly-förged friend!” Wigfrid said, seemingly incapable of a register other than loud and surprisingly melodic. She held out her hand for Winona. “Pardön the mess. I am slightly öff-kilter töday. I was öut all of the eve, tracking a beast tö keep me sustained, and I am left with this creature! I will eat its flesh, as all flesh is the fööd of warriörs, but I am ashamed tö admit that the flesh öf evil settles with me… less amicably.”

 

   “I… reckon you’re Wigfrid. Is that right?”

 

   “Sö yöu have heard my name and my explöits!”

 

   “… In some ways, yep. My name’s Winona. You’re awfully, uh, good at fighting,” said Winona, finally taking the handshake and firmly returning one that very well may have ripped a weaker person’s arm out of its socket. “It’s a pleasure to meet another woman with some real physical abilities around these parts. Shame we met in the middle of battle,” she continued, while clearly thinking exactly the opposite of that. “Thanks for killing that thing. If it got to camp, our collective geese would’ve been cooked.”

 

   “The pleasure is all mine!” Wigfrid replied with an almost booming laugh. “You’re an ödd öne, my scarved ally. Nöw, shall we skin it and return tö camp?”

 

   “That’s the plan, I guess.” Winona said, while admonishing herself for not speaking with more reverence. This was a lady she was talking to! A lady of war! She was bizarre, warlike, bloodied, and had the strangest air of familiarity about her, but she was strong and beautiful, and Winona wanted nothing more than to talk to her for the next forever-and-a-half. For the first time in decades, Winona was love-struck. It wasn’t an attitude becoming of her career-based mindset.

 

   As they walked back to camp, Wigfrid began telling stories in that thick Scandinavian accent of hers. Winona, enamored, listened closely to every word while having the most neutral expression plastered on her face. Half of her brain was excited by the idea of having someone to fawn over after so many years, but on the other side, a thousand kinds of red flag were being raised. One thought overpowered them all, on both ends:

 

   Winona _knew_ her from somewhere.


End file.
